


i breathe you in (irresistible)

by joshllyman



Series: wild and fluorescent [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Marijuana, Mentioned Kuroo Tetsurou, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Trans Character, Trans Kindaichi Yuutarou, Trans Male Character, it's not huge and it gets squashed right away, mentioned Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, side Tanaka Ryuunosuke/Yamamoto Taketora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: It didn’t used to be like this. Kindaichi isn’t a party person, doesn’t like crowds at all and likes drinking among strangers even less. Tora, on the other hand,lovesboth of those things. The first time Kindaichi had accepted an invitation, he’d been hesitant; now he makes time in his study schedule, knowing that more often than not, his weekends will be taken up by—well, definitely not searching for Yaku in whichever crowded frat house is hosting.***Kindaichi might not be into parties, but he is into Yaku, and a mishap at the season's biggest may be just what they need to bring them together.
Relationships: Kindaichi Yuutarou/Yaku Morisuke
Series: wild and fluorescent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159274
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: HQ!! Writers Valentine's Weekend





	i breathe you in (irresistible)

**Author's Note:**

> yo here it is my dudes, my first ode to the new love of my life yakukin  
> for day 2 of hq!! writer's discord valentine's weekend 2021, prompt: first kiss  
> huge thank you to cat, tawnya, ro, becca, sam, and luka who helped me get this out into the world; as usual, i couldn't do it without you all

At the top of the list of things Kindaichi’s definitely not doing: looking for Morisuke Yaku.

Looking for Yaku would involve admitting to himself that he came to this party primarily to see Yaku, and that is a truth he’s not prepared to deal with. Instead, he’s hanging out in the living room and keeping an eye on everyone in the crowd, decidedly not searching out a mess of strawberry blond hair or the voice he’s become so fond of.

It didn’t used to be like this. Kindaichi isn’t a party person, doesn’t like crowds at all and likes drinking among strangers even less. Tora, on the other hand,  _ loves _ both of those things. The first time Kindaichi had accepted an invitation, he’d been hesitant; now he makes time in his study schedule, knowing that more often than not, his weekends will be taken up by—well, definitely not searching for Yaku in whichever crowded frat house is hosting.

This weekend, it happens to be Yaku and Noya’s frat hosting, which is probably why Kindaichi hasn’t caught sight of Yaku yet. He’ll be making the rounds, making everyone feel welcome, making sure there’s no trouble to be found. He’s good at that, and Kindaichi quickly replaces the smile forming on his face at the thought with his usual scowl.

It was homecoming weekend when they first met, and the first late fall chill was settling over campus. Kindaichi was bundled in a hoodie and a beanie, sitting beneath a tree as Tora and Tanaka threw a frisbee back and forth on the lawn in front of his dorm. Tora had been bugging him to get up and join them, telling him that he’d be so much warmer if he played, and Kindaichi had been about to retort when someone had tackled Tanaka from behind, climbing up his body to steal the frisbee from his hand. That turned out to be Noya. Yaku had showed up a moment later, a streak of red across the lawn as he flew to the spot that Noya had thrown the frisbee. He caught it in his mouth somehow, like an overgrown and incredibly impressive dog.

Tanaka had let out a horrible screech, and he and Noya had gotten into a wrestling match. Yaku punched Tora in the shoulder and wandered over to squat beside Kindaichi, offering him the frisbee from between his teeth.

“You’re Tora’s friend,” he’d said, his voice distorted by the plastic. “You were at the party with him a few weeks ago.”

Kindaichi blinked. By that point, he’d only been to the one party, on a week Tora and Tanaka were off and Tora had begged Kindaichi to come with him. Kindaichi had mostly stuck to the edges of the crowd that night, beer clutched tightly in his hand and eagerly awaiting the moment Tora decided he was ready to go. He couldn’t remember seeing anyone who looked like Yaku that night.

“I guess,” he’d said slowly, feeling like he was missing something. “Yuutarou Kindaichi.”

“Morisuke Yaku.” He dropped the frisbee from his mouth. “Come play with us.”

It didn’t seem like a request. Kindaichi looked at Tora, who shrugged, and then beyond him to where Noya and Tanaka were still rolling around in the grass.

“Um,” said Kindaichi.

Yaku smiled brightly at him. “Please?”

Kindaichi learned something important in that moment—he was going to have a hard time telling Yaku no.

Yaku exploits that weakness on occasion, several months on. Formally, Kindaichi’s party invitations are always extended via Tora, but if he tells Tora no, more often than not he’ll see Yaku within a day or two. He never makes Kindaichi feel pressured, for which Kindaichi is extremely thankful. When Kindaichi accepts, Yaku makes it a point to seek him out, offer him a drink and a conversation. All of this is well and good, and normally none of this behavior would bother Kindaichi, especially since Yaku is overall a welcoming guy.

It’s just that Yaku looks so damn cute while he’s doing it.

Kindaichi’s not going through a gay crisis or anything—he’s known for a long time that he’s into guys. But his crushes are few and far between, and rarely has he ever been interested in someone so goddamn unattainable. Yaku is cool, funny, popular, and two years older. Kindaichi might as well be into Tom Holland and his frog, for all the good it’s gonna do him. So he’s stuck feeling all the stupid butterflies in his stomach and shortness of breath in his lungs any time Yaku’s in his line of sight, and Yaku’s such a decent guy that Kindaichi can’t even give him the ‘fuck off’ vibes he gives everyone else.

Somehow, this is definitely Tora’s fault.

He’d fucked off immediately upon arrival tonight, and Kindaichi thinks he and Tanaka are on this week so that’s probably where he went, leaving Kindaichi to his own devices. He’d found a relatively quiet spot to people watch from, and so far just that has kept him more than occupied. There’s a lively game of beer pong going in the next room, and he’s got a good view of both that and the mingling going on in this one. But he hasn’t seen Yaku yet, even though he’s seen Noya several times by now. Usually the two of them aren’t terribly far apart from each other.

Not that Kindaichi’s looking for Yaku or anything. He’s definitely not. It’s just a break from the typical pattern, is all.

When he goes in search of a beer, he finds Tora and Tanaka are making out against the kitchen counter, which, cool, he’d been right that they were, in fact, on at the moment. Kindaichi is just grateful he won’t have to hear about it later. He’s reaching for a beer behind Tora when someone shoulders him, hard.

“The hell,” Kindaichi says, turning, and Tora unsticks himself from Tanaka long enough to look Kindaichi’s way. 

“Yeah, what the hell,” he echoes. Ride or die, that one.

The guy who bumped into Kindaichi sneers up at him—Kindaichi’s taller by an inch or two, and he’s never more thankful for that height than when someone pulls this shit. “Didn’t realize they let your kind in here.”

Kindaichi narrows his eyes, about to retort, before he realizes he’s probably referring to the way Tora and Tanaka were eating each other a moment ago. “Didn’t realize they let your kind in, either.”

The guy narrows his eyes, trying to figure out what Kindaichi’s talking about. “Sports science majors?” he questions.

Kindaichi rolls his eyes. “Idiots.”

Yaku shows up just as the guy throws his beer in Kindaichi’s face.

It’s probably good timing, all things considered; his fists clench and he’s fully prepared to show this asshole exactly what “his kind” can do. He can feel Tora’s hackles raising just behind him, too. Kindaichi knows there’s no way this guy would get out of here without getting his ass kicked.

It's like Yaku knows, though. He (and Noya) appear out of nowhere. Yaku stands between Kindaichi and the asshole. Noya stands at the asshole's side, arm wrapped around his shoulder despite the difference in height.

"Seems like it's time for you to go home, my friend," he says, and it's polite enough but there's a hint of a threat underneath the niceties. 

The guy frowns. "What the fuck, man, I was having a good time and I just saw these fuckers—"

"Out." Politeness gone. Noya glares. "Now."

He looks like he's gonna fight it for half a second. Yaku steps up, making himself taller. Between the two of them, Kindaichi feels certain this guy doesn't stand a chance.

"Stupid party, anyway," he mumbles.

The crowd divides silently, and the guy heads out. Noya watches him go before clapping his hands together.

"Alright, we good here? Anyone else got a problem?" 

The party comes back to life immediately. Tora pats Kindaichi on the back and goes back to sucking face with Tanaka, so, you know, good for him. Noya laughs and turns to Yaku and Kindaichi.

“Hey, can you lend this guy a change of clothes?” He points a thumb in Kindaichi’s direction. “He’s gonna be sticky shortly.”

“Some of us are sticky now,” says Tanaka, and before Kindaichi can even turn around to glare, his face is attached to Tora’s again. Noya and Yaku laugh raucously.

“You two, find a room,” Noya suggests. “You good, Morisuke?”

A strange look passes between them, seemingly a lot more intense than the situation would require. Yaku is the one who finally breaks eye contact.

“C’mon,” Yaku says, taking Kindaichi’s wrist. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Kindaichi would like to argue, but there’s a surprising amount of strength in Yaku’s hold. He’s seen Yaku shirtless a few times—he has a tendency to strip out of them when he’s doing keg stands, for whatever reason—and he knows there’s a damn good amount of muscle on his frame, but it hadn’t occurred to Kindaichi before this moment that that meant he is likely pretty fucking strong. A weird and not entirely unwelcome little thrill goes through him.

Yaku is good at parting the crowd. Most people see the pair of them coming and just step out of the way, not wanting Kindaichi’s drenched ass anywhere near them, but for those that are too caught up in whatever else they’re doing, a short bark from Yaku gets them hustling off to the side. Yaku pulls him up two flights of stairs to the top floor of the house. There’s a rope across the hallway that suggests this area is off limits to the rest of the party, but Yaku steps over it, so Kindaichi does, too. Yaku opens the second to last door at the end of the hall.

“My humble abode,” he says. “Uh. Don’t mind the mess too much.”

There’s really not that much mess. Kindaichi’s seen a lot worse (Tora when he and Tanaka have been off for more days in a row than they’ve been on). There’s a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor, apparently for want of a hamper, but they’re all in one spot and not strewn about. The desk is covered with various papers, and he thinks he spots a laptop beneath a pile of books. (It occurs to Kindaichi that in all the months they’ve known each other, he’s never asked Yaku what he’s majoring in. He should ask, when he finds a minute). The bed is unmade, but like, who even makes their bed, anyway?

“It’s fine,” Kindaichi says as Yaku crosses over to his dresser. He’s digging through his drawer when he looks up and considers Kindaichi for a moment.

“Gonna take me a minute to find something that will work,” he sighs. “You are...really fucking tall.”

Kindaichi can’t help but snicker. “You sure you’re not just real short?”

Yaku narrows his eyes and points a finger at Kindaichi. “Thin ice, you. Don’t think I won’t beat your ass.”

“You’d be surprised how many fights I got into as a kid,” says Kindaichi. “I can handle my own pretty good.”

Yaku seems to consider this a moment. “Bathroom’s two down on the right,” he says, pointing with his chin. “You can get the worst of it washed off. There’s clean towels in the closet in there.”

Kindaichi nods and shifts his weight between his feet. “Thank you,” he says.

Yaku goes back to the drawers. “We weren’t gonna let you stink up the whole house.”

“For the rest of it, I mean.” Kindaichi bites his lip. “For stepping in. Kicking him out. It...it means a lot.”

Yaku looks up at him again. “I’m bi,” he says. “Noya’s pan, Tanaka’s...well, attached to Tora by the mouth at any given time, so you can probably guess he’s not straight. We’ve all been there, you know. We’ve got each other’s backs around here. That means yours, too.”

Kindaichi feels a lump form in his throat and can’t quite find a response other than “Right.” He hesitates a moment before finally heading off in search of the bathroom. 

When most of the beer is washed off his face and he’s wrung out his shirt over the sink, he returns with one of the towels wrapped tightly around his chest. Yaku has produced a shirt that had sleeves and a collar at one point but no longer retains either of those and a pair of shorts that’s seen better days. 

Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes, so he drops his jeans and shimmies the shorts up over his boxers. They barely cover any more than just the boxers alone, but they’re roomy enough at the waist. They’ll do.

Kindaichi takes a deep, steadying breath before dropping the towel. He does his best to ignore the way he knows Yaku is gonna stare as he pulls the tank over his head and back down over his binder. It grates against him, but Yaku stays silent. Finally, Kindaichi arches a brow, prepping for a fight. 

“You got a problem?”

Yaku shakes his head violently. “No. Not at all. We’re good here.”

Kindaichi holds on to that stubborn bit of anger for his safety for another moment, and then he deflates. “Good,” he mumbles. 

“I...uh. I didn’t realize. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Kindaichi sits heavily on the edge of the mattress. “My parents are supportive, so I’ve been on T a long time. Most people don’t know, unless I specifically tell them. So. It’s not...it’s not personal, that I didn’t tell you. I just don’t usually.”

Yaku’s throat bobs as he swallows. “My, uh. My best friend back home, one of his partners is nonbinary. Keiji. The partner, not my best friend. My best friend is Tetsurou. He’s a shithead, but Keiji’s pretty cool. And their boyfriend Kou.”

Yaku blinks, seeming to realize he’s been talking for quite a while, and shuts his mouth. Kindaichi shifts, not sure what to do with this information.

“Cool,” he says, and Yaku exhales loudly.

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” He picks up the shirt and jeans that Kindaichi dropped and goes over to his own laundry pile. From underneath the clothes he produces a bag, and he tucks all the clothing in together. “I’ll just go start the load,” he says.

He hovers for a moment, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to say something else, before disappearing from the room. 

Kindaichi lets out a long breath once he’s gone. He’s hyper aware of the way his binder is showing from the giant holes in the sides of the shirt, and he’s seriously considering just booking it back to his dorm before Yaku comes back. He forces himself to take a deep breath and be rational. Yaku deserves better than that, especially after being so cool about the binder in the first place. 

To combat his restlessness, he stands and paces the room. His feet carry him to the desk of their own accord, and he glances down at the homework spread out over the wood. The papers all seem to have complicated formulas and equations on them, and he wonders if Yaku is some sort of math major. The books on the laptop, however, are all classic literature from the early 1900’s, which would suggest a specialized English class that is probably only available to arts majors. There’s nothing else on the desk to give him any more hints, although there is a framed photo of Yaku with a tall, lanky man with a case of terrible bedhead. The man has his arm thrown casually around Yaku’s shoulders, and both of them are clutching at their stomachs while they laugh. Kindaichi picks it up without thinking, examining the Yaku in the photo. He looks to be high school age, maybe. The Yaku Kindaichi knows is maybe a hair taller, a bit leaner and more wiry, but he’s got the same brown eyes and bright smile.

“That’s Tetsurou,” says Yaku, and Kindaichi nearly drops the frame in alarm. “He’s awful, isn’t he?”

Kindaichi balks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s not intruding if it’s right there for you to see.” Yaku comes over and tilts his head to look at the photo. “Took this the summer we graduated. We’ve known each other since middle school, you know, so it was weird as hell that we weren’t going to college together. He’s out in New York at some arts school.”

“You miss him?” Kindaichi asks without thinking.

“We Facetime where we can, when the time zones line up,” Yaku answers. “But yeah, I do.”

Kindaichi sets the photo down. “Tora’s like that for me. Our families have known each other since before we were even born.”

“You come here because he did?”

Kindaichi shrugs. “Maybe a little. But there’s a decent architecture program here, too, and it’s cheaper than going out of state. Hey, uh. What’s your major?”

“Middle school education, math and social studies,” Yaku answers. “Why?”

“Just realized I didn’t know.”

Yaku looks at him for a moment before smiling softly. It’s a different look on him, not the same smile he usually sees when they’re around Noya and Tora and Tanaka. That’s a good smile, too, but this is gentler, warmer, and Kindaichi wants to see more of it. “You wanna head back out there? I can go switch your laundry around later.”

“To be honest, I’m not sure if I’m up for more partying tonight,” Kindaichi sighs. He goes back over to the bed and sits down. “I should probably just go.”

“Bullshit,” Yaku says, his face hardening. “Don’t let some idiot dictate your night for you.”

Kindaichi shifts, keenly aware of how much of his thighs are showing. “You know parties aren’t my thing, anyway,” he admits. “I’m really only here because of Tora.”

Yaku barks a laugh. “Yeah. I know. But you  _ are _ here. So you should enjoy it while you are.”

He raises a brow, almost daring Kindaichi to get up and walk out. Kindaichi lays his sweaty palms flat on top of his thighs.

“I’ll stay, at least while I wait for my laundry,” Kindaichi concedes, and it makes Yaku break into a big grin. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not going back out there.”

“That’s fine. I’ll bring the party to you.”

Kindaichi shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Yaku hops up onto the bed, crossing his legs and tucking his feet underneath him. “I’ll stay with you, at least.”

Something like a thrill swoops through Kindaichi’s stomach, and he curses himself. “You really don’t have to do that. You’ve got all those people out there to entertain. I’m good in here, really.”

Yaku huffs. “You think I’m gonna leave you by yourself? The hell kind of party is that?”

“The kind I don’t mind.”

“Right, well, the way I see it, Noya and I wanna make every guest feel welcome, right?” Yaku aims a socked foot at Kindaichi’s shin. “You think I’m gonna enjoy myself out there if I know you’re in here alone?”

“I’m fine. Really.” 

“Hey, do me a favor.”

Kindaichi narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” Yaku pats Kindaichi’s knee twice before hopping off the bed. “I’ll be right back, and if you disappear on me I will haunt your every step for the rest of the semester.”

He lingers with a menacing look just long enough to make sure Kindaichi knows he’s serious before he slips out of the bedroom door. Kindaichi lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk, trying to imagine what it would be like to have Yaku following him around all the time. Would he talk constantly, or just watch silently, all the time? Show up in the middle of Kindaichi’s classes just to stare at him? Make an ass of himself in front of Kindaichi’s friends? ...Okay, well, Kindaichi’s main friend is Tora, and he’s an ass in front of Tora, anyway.

He can’t decide if it would be nice or if it would be hell, having Yaku around at literally all times. Maybe both, he supposes. Maybe he’s a little bit of a masochist.

Yaku interrupts that thought, reappearing in the bedroom with a small baggie that he tosses onto the bed. Kindaichi has to fight to keep the blush off his face, even though he wasn’t even  _ doing _ anything, and Yaku cocks his head curiously.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yep,” Kindaichi answers, and his voice cracks, which only serves to make his blush even worse. Goddamn hormones. “Yeah, yeah, I’m, uh, fine. How are you?”

Yaku laughs a little and resettles at the end of the bed. “I’m good. I’m real good.”

God, his smile is cute. His whole him is cute. Kindaichi needs to get himself under control. He ducks his head and pulls his knees a little closer to his chest.

“What’s that?” he asks, indicating the baggie.

Yaku picks it up and tosses it at him. Kindaichi catches it, barely. “Have you ever smoked?”

“Yes,” Kindaichi answers with a frown. “One of my best friends is Tora.”

Yaku grins at him. “Hey, just checking. You wanna?”

In his head, Kindaichi makes a list of bad ideas. At the top, underlined, is getting high with the person he’s trying really hard not to be into. He has a bad habit of brutal honesty at the best of times, and when his guard’s down it’s harder to keep the thoughts he’d rather not share from passing through his lips. One such thought, regarding how kissable Yaku’s lips look when he licks them, floats through his brain while he’s trying to make up his mind.

“There’s no pressure, you know,” Yaku says. “It’s totally cool if you don’t want to. We can do...literally anything else. How do you feel about Parcheesi?”

Kindaichi can’t help but laugh. “I’d be more impressed if you could even come up with a Parcheesi board on short notice.”

“Okay, well, that sort of sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you know how to play Parcheesi?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“So then we’ll just make up our own rules,” Yaku reasons, giving Kindaichi a lopsided smile.

Kindaichi sits on his hands, determined to keep them to himself. “Alright, yeah, what the hell. Let’s smoke.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re sure?”

Kindaichi rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Yaku watches him for another moment. Kindaichi’s heart pounds against his ribcage, not entirely uncomfortably. The tension in the room, or at least in Kindaichi’s mind, ramps up three or four notches. Finally, Yaku shifts onto his hands and knees, suddenly much closer to Kindaichi as he rummages around in the top drawer of the bedside table. After a few moments where Kindaichi has to keep himself from doing something  _ really stupid _ (getting high with Yaku falls a few spots down the list in his mind, now resting beneath ‘running his hands through Yaku’s hair unprompted’ and ‘putting his hand on top of Yaku’s’), Yaku finally produces a pipe and a lighter and shuts the drawer. When he sits back on the bed, he’s significantly closer than he was before; his shins nearly bump against Kindaichi’s.

“Okay, so, there’s not a ton in here, and it’s not even mine, so we gotta kinda save it as much as we can.” Carefully he pinches some out of the baggie and packs it into the pipe. “But I’ve got an idea. You ever shotgunned before?”

Kindaichi’s throat goes dry. “What?”

“It’s when you, like, share the smoke—”

“Yeah, I know what it is.” Kindaichi swallows. “But...we’d have to get really close.”

Yaku looks up from where he’s fussing with the pipe. “Does that bother you?”

It doesn’t, but can he keep himself under control with Yaku so close? “N-no.” Kindaichi bites his lip and looks away. “Why, does it bother you?”

Yaku laughs. “If it did, I wouldn’t have suggested doing it this way.” He lights the pipe. “I’ll take the hit and pass it to you, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’s...that’s fine.”

Yaku lifts the pipe to his mouth. “Last chance to back out. You’re sure you’re good?”

Kindaichi blinks. He’s not at all convinced he’s not having some sort of fever dream, but honestly, he doesn’t really want to wake up. “Yeah. Bring it.”

Yaku laughs. “Open up, then.”

He closes his eyes as he puts the pipe between his lips. Kindaichi can’t look away as he inhales. It shouldn’t be so hot, something mundane like smoking, but God, Kindaichi’s starting to wonder if there’s anything Yaku does that  _ isn’t _ hot. His fingers wrap around the pipe tenderly, and he breathes in like it’s something holy, something sacred, something to be savored. When he opens his eyes, he finds Kindaichi’s gaze immediately and leans in, closing the space between them.

He looks down at Kindaichi’s mouth, and Kindaichi realizes he’s still got his mouth closed. He pries his jaw open, and Yaku cups the back of his neck to bring him down to his level. There are mere inches between their mouths when Yaku exhales. The smoke passes into Kindaichi’s mouth, and he breathes it in, unable to tear his watering eyes away from Yaku. He’s shaking by the time Yaku releases him, and stays in place even after Yaku moves away. 

Yaku waves a hand in front of his face. “Hey. Kindaichi.”

“What?”

Yaku chuckles. “You were staring at me.”

“Uh.” He’s not wrong. Actually, Kindaichi kind of hasn’t stopped staring. He rubs a hand over his face. “Sorry. I guess I zoned out.”

“Lightweight.”

Kindaichi huffs. “Fuck off.”

“You wanna take the next hit?”

Kindaichi considers this with his bottom lip between his teeth. Could he keep himself from kissing Yaku, if the opportunity presented itself like that? He kind of doubts it. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I know how to pass it right yet. Let’s do another hit and I’ll pay more attention to what you do.”

“You got it.” Yaku brings the pipe to his lips again, except this time he keeps his eyes on Kindaichi while he does it. A small, disbelieving part of Kindaichi’s brain wonders if he knows what he’s doing, how crazy he’s making Kindaichi, because the way he wraps his lips around the pipe is nothing less than sensual. He inhales and lets his hand fall away, and when he moves in close to Kindaichi, he gets even closer than before. Kindaichi’s lips part automatically, and Yaku’s just brush against his as he exhales into Kindaichi’s mouth. Kindaichi narrowly avoids a whine escaping his throat. 

The exhale seems to last a thousand years, and yet only mere seconds pass before Yaku sits back again. He’s practically on top of Kindaichi at this point, his sense of personal space skewed by the high that’s just beginning to bloom in Kindaichi’s own body. He presses the pipe into Kindaichi’s hand.

“Your turn.”

Kindaichi swallows thickly. “I still don’t know...I’m gonna mess it up.”

Yaku shakes his head. “It’ll be fine. You’ll catch on quick.”

Kindaichi searches for excuses in his head and comes up empty. They’re nearly out of weed already; this will probably be the last hit. 

“Go on,” Yaku encourages, gently pushing Kindaichi’s hand toward his mouth.

Keenly aware of Yaku’s gaze, Kindaichi takes the pipe between his lips and inhales. His lungs fill and fill, and he can’t stop staring at Yaku, and he swears Yaku’s looking right at his lips but that can’t possibly be right, that has to be the weed talking. He sets the now-empty pipe aside, his lungs burning with smoke, but before he can try to figure out how to get close enough to Yaku, Yaku straddles his lap.

“Just breathe out slowly,” he whispers, leaving his mouth open after the last word.

Yaku’s already closed the gap, so Kindaichi can close his eyes as he breathes out. Every nerve in his body is screaming out; he clenches his hands into fists, desperate to not wrap them around Yaku’s waist. He counts the seconds as he breathes out, seven, eight, nine, ten, and the last of the smoke passes to Yaku, and that should be the end of it, he should move away, except he doesn’t. 

Kindaichi opens his eyes. Yaku is right there where he was before, his gaze hungry, his nose just barely pressing against Kindaichi’s.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

Kindaichi can’t breathe. He’s sweating, and even though he knows the smoke is gone, he feels like it’s burning him from the inside. “Yaku,” he says, and his voice wobbles and cracks.

Yaku licks his lips. He still hasn’t moved. “Just so you know,” he says, and his eyes flicker between Kindaichi’s eyes and his mouth. “Just so you know, if I’m bugging you, you can tell me to get out, you know. I don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” Kindaichi answers, and already the truth, the things his head would rather hide, spills from his lips. “I want you to stay.”

“I want to stay.” He shifts, just slightly, and it forces him a little further into Kindaichi’s space, somehow. “Is this...is this okay? Where I am right now?”

Slowly, Kindaichi nods. His hands unclench themselves of their own accord and find Yaku’s hips, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to settle on his skin. He hisses, and for half a second Kindaichi thinks he’s done something wrong, and then he feels the way Yaku is trembling, too.

“Yaku,” he says again, and his voice comes out too high, and he’s about to apologize but then Yaku grips the back of his neck and yanks him forward into a kiss.

Kindaichi moans, too loud, against Yaku’s mouth. Everything that’s been building in Kindaichi’s heart for months now is finally,  _ finally _ reaching completion, and it tastes like weed and the shitty beer they’re serving downstairs and reckless abandon. For the first time, Kindaichi allows himself to think that maybe, oh God, maybe Yaku wants him as bad as he wants Yaku.

The thought leaves him gasping, and Yaku pulls back for half a second to swear before moving in again, their second kiss growing dirty quickly as Yaku shoves his tongue inelegantly past Kindaichi’s lips, and Kindaichi can’t even bring himself to care how graceless it is, how messy and unrefined, because Yaku’s gripping him hard enough that his nails are digging into Kindaichi’s neck and it feels fucking  _ incredible _ and he can’t help but grasp Yaku tighter in response. 

Yaku pulls away too quickly, his chest heaving as he stares at Kindaichi. “Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . Kindaichi, you’re sure you’re good with this?”

Kindaichi laughs, and it comes out jittery as hell. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first fucking day I met you.”

Yaku blinks, his eyes huge. Then he punches Kindaichi’s shoulder. “You should have said something!”

“Hey, you should have fucking said something, I wasn’t gonna assume a junior was into me—”

Yaku seizes him by the front of his shirt and hauls him in again, and now their mouths move a little more in sync, their bodies a little more in tandem, and when Yaku presses his chest against Kindaichi’s, Kindaichi slips one hand around to his back and lays his open palm flat against Yaku’s back, keeping him in place. Yaku adjusts, nudging Kindaichi’s knees apart and settling on one of his thighs. Kindaichi does whine now, just a small noise in the back of his throat as Yaku threads his fingers through the hair on the back of his head and tugs.

“Oh,” he breathes, separating from Kindaichi for a moment to consider him. “That, uh. You like that?”

Kindaichi closes his eyes and fights the blush threatening to develop on his face. “You really gonna make me say it?”

Yaku swallows. Kindaichi doesn’t make a secret of the way his eyes track the movement. “I wanna hear it, yeah.”

“Yaku—”

Yaku’s fingers tighten their hold, and Kindaichi goes silent immediately.

“Tell me,” Yaku breathes. “Please.”

“I like it,” Kindaichi admits. “I like it a lot.”

Yaku smiles. When he leans in again, instead of kissing Kindaichi’s mouth, he presses his lips to Kindaichi’s jaw, nipping lightly at his skin and not releasing his hold on Kindaichi’s hair. His mouth trails downward, and he tugs enough to get Kindaichi to tip his head back and expose his throat. He kisses several spots there, and after a moment, he bites hard enough to elicit a gasp.

“N-no marks,” Kindaichi says. “Not anywhere visible.”

“Yes, sir,” Yaku murmurs into his skin.

The minutes stretch long as they kiss. Kindaichi can’t remember a time when they weren’t touching, can’t foresee a time when they won’t still be touching. All that exists is this room, this bed, the two of them and the air they’re sharing. Yaku pulls away for a second and Kindaichi chases him despite his breathlessness. Yaku breathes out a laugh and presses the palm of his hand to Kindaichi’s cheek.

“Hey.” He kisses Kindaichi once: quick, soft, affectionate. “How would you feel about me taking my shirt off?”

Kindaichi whimpers, and Yaku laughs again. “Shut up,” Kindaichi grumbles, but his discontentedness is short-lived as Yaku strips out of his top and tosses it in the direction of the laundry pile. Kindaichi chews on his bottom lip as he surveys Yaku. He’s seen him like this before but never up close, and  _ fuck _ , he’s hot, he’s so fucking far out of Kindaichi’s league but he’s in Kindaichi’s lap and—he catches himself reaching out to touch Yaku’s abs and stops just short, pulling his hand back with a blush.

“You can,” Yaku says, picking Kindaichi’s hand up from where he’s trying to shove it into his lap. “I want you to.”

Kindaichi can hear the earnest tone of his voice, but he still lets Yaku guide his hand back to his chest. He drags it down from his pecs to his abs, stopping just short of the waistband of his jeans. 

“Follow up question,” Yaku breathes, his voice a little tight. “And you can absolutely say no, I want you to be comfortable more than anything, you can totally tell me to fuck off—”

“Yaku,” Kindaichi huffs. “Shut up and ask me to take off my shirt.”

Yaku’s breath catches audibly in his throat. “Do you want to?”

“Do I usually do things I don’t want to?”

“You’ve been coming to parties for months now, and you said yourself they’re not your scene.”

Kindaichi takes a deep breath. “I...don’t mind them so much when there’s someone I want to see.”

Yaku’s gaze falls to his lips again, and Kindaichi meets him halfway as Yaku crashes into him. Their mouths move frantically together as Yaku’s fingers fumble at the hem of Kindaichi’s shirt. They make a bit of a mess of it, refusing to part long enough to do it efficiently. Kindaichi ends up with the shirt stuck around his neck, one arm in and one arm out. Yaku laughs and laughs as Kindaichi tugs it off with a scowl.

“I can’t believe I like you,” he mumbles, and now he’s down to just his binder, and the realization makes a blush bloom once again from his face down into his chest. 

“Oh,” murmurs Yaku, running his fingers over the U of skin above Kindaichi’s binder. “That’s…”

He licks his lips instead of finishing his thought, and Kindaichi’s blush burns ever hotter. He can’t decide if he wants to kiss Yaku or kill him, but before he can say anything Yaku leans in and kisses his chest. His hands find Kindaichi’s sides, and he runs reverent fingertips up and down his ribcage.

“Tell me if I go too far,” Yaku says against his skin.

Kindaichi can’t quite decipher what that means in time, so the hot slide of Yaku’s tongue along his collarbone and the subsequent sharp, sweet pain of his teeth sinking into Kindaichi’s shoulder take him by surprise. 

“I saw you across the room at that first party you went to,” Yaku says. He presses a kiss against the spot he’s just bitten. “You stuck out because of how much you looked like you didn’t want to be there. Normally I would have come over, tried to coerce you into having some fun, but you…”

He trails off, kissing Kindaichi’s collarbone again. Kindaichi runs his hands through Yaku’s hair. “But I what?”

Yaku looks up at him with bright eyes. “You were so beautiful, you intimidated the hell out of me. Even with that scowl on your face.”

Kindaichi’s jaw falls open. “What?”

Yaku cups the back of Kindaichi’s head and pulls him close again, their noses smashed against each other. “I mean it, Kindaichi. Yuutarou.”

“Morisuke,” Kindaichi murmurs.

Yaku bites his lip before continuing. “I asked around. Took me a couple weeks to find out who knew you. I asked Tora to introduce us, but he said you wouldn’t be into that.”

Kindaichi blinks. “So he invited you to crash the frisbee game.”

Yaku nods. Kindaichi has no words. Disbelief runs rampant through his mind, but he can’t see anything but truth in the intensity of Yaku’s gaze. There’s no recourse except to kiss him again, this man who has chosen him, pursued him patiently, made him feel desired and  _ safe _ , so fucking safe.

After a few moments, Yaku pulls back. “You don’t think I’m a stalker or something, do you?” he questions. “I swear I’m not—but if it makes you uncomfortable I can fuck off—”

“Morisuke,” Kindaichi says, and there’s a weird thrill that goes through him, knowing he has permission to use that name. “Do me a favor.”

“Yeah.”

Kindaichi grins. “Shut up.”

Yaku looks flabbergasted for half a second before he laughs. Kindaichi has just enough time to contemplate the pros and cons of falling in love with that sound before Yaku brings their mouths together again.

There’s no hurry in their movements, none of the urgency that burned away at them earlier in the night. Kindaichi is satisfied memorizing this side of Yaku—the ridges of his spine, the birthmark on his low back, the gasps he makes when Kindaichi finds a particularly sensitive spot with fingers or mouth (so far: the hollow of his throat, the patch of hair just below his belly button, the insides of his wrists—). In turn, Yaku is gentle, whispering softly into his skin and his ear, holding him tenderly like he’s some sort of treasure. The high fades, and the house eventually goes quiet, but Kindaichi and Yaku stay wrapped up in each other. When they speak, it’s in hushed tones, like they’re afraid to break the spell that’s settled over them. 

“It’s almost five,” Yaku hums.

Kindaichi lifts his head from where he’d had it buried against Yaku’s shoulder. He’d been nearly asleep. “Guess I should go,” he whispers.

Yaku bites his lip. “You don’t have to,” he says. He brushes a bit of hair out of Kindaichi’s face, and then keeps his hand on Kindaichi’s cheek. “You can stay here if you want.”

Kindaichi laughs once. “Trying to get me out of your pants?”

Yaku goes red. “No! I can sleep on the couch—I just don’t want you walking back to campus at this hour—!”

Kindaichi has to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loudly, and Yaku is indignant for another half a moment before he catches on and punches Kindaichi in the shoulder. “You little shit,” he hisses, but there’s no malice behind it.

Kindaichi steals his hand and laces their fingers together. “It doesn’t really bother you,” he says, and just enough uncertainty shows in his voice that Yaku rolls his eyes.

“I like you, dumbass,” he says. He lifts Kindaichi’s chin with two fingers. “I like you a lot, and no, it doesn’t bother me. Feels like that would be pretty fucking hypocritical of me since I’m a shit at least twice as often as you.”

“At least,” Kindaichi agrees, letting relief flood through him.

Yaku watches him for a moment before speaking again. “So are you gonna stay or not?”

Kindaichi squeezes Yaku’s hand. “I’ll stay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He rolls off Kindaichi’s lap with a grunt, and Kindaichi realizes, as feeling rapidly returns to the area, that he hasn’t actually been able to feel his legs in several hours. “I’m gonna wash up if you...uh, if you need a minute to...shit, I should get you a different shirt.”

He returns to the dresser and digs out something that still has sleeves. He tosses it in Kindaichi’s direction.

“So you’re covered,” he mumbles, and Kindaichi’s heart swells.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, so quietly it barely has any voice.

Yaku nods. He hesitates another moment, looking like he might say something else, but then he gives Kindaichi a bright smile and heads off to the bathroom.

While he’s gone, Kindaichi strips out of his binder—and Jesus, he’s been in it way too long. He should spend tomorrow—today—without it—and realizes he doesn’t know which side of the bed Yaku prefers. And then it hits him that he’ll have this knowledge soon enough. He’ll also learn which way Yaku likes to sleep, whether he likes to cuddle or likes his space. It occurs to him again how few people have the privilege of calling him Morisuke, and how he’s on that shortlist now.

Kindaichi bites his lip. There’s a feeling blooming warm and definite in his chest, a feeling that takes root in his ribcage and sprawls through his lungs and chest. It feels like—like home. Yaku makes him feel like he’s home.

Yaku reappears in the doorway, knocking softly with his gaze focused on the ground. “You decent?”

Kindaichi snorts. “I’m covered, if that’s what you mean.”

Yaku rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind himself and crosses over to the bed. He comes around to the left side of the bed to get in, so there’s the answer to that question. Kindaichi scoots to the right and lays down. 

A moment passes, and then two, and then Yaku’s hand hovers over his hip. “This okay?”

Kindaichi takes Yaku’s hand and brings it over his waist until his palm is flat against his stomach. “Better now,” he mumbles.

Yaku scoots in so he’s pressed fully against Kindaichi’s back. He places a kiss between Kindaichi’s shoulder blades. “You can go wash up too, if you want,” he offers.

“M fine,” Kindaichi answers.

“Lemme know if you need more space.”

“I will, but this is...good.”

Yaku exhales, holding Kindaichi a little more tightly. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

Kindaichi lets his eyes fall shut. Yaku slips his hand beneath Kindaichi’s shirt so his palm is against Kindaichi’s skin. The feeling blooms a little more brightly, twisting its way into Kindaichi’s heart.

“Sleep well,” Yaku murmurs, and the last thought that Kindaichi has is that with Yaku holding him close, it would be hard not to.

**Author's Note:**

> [socials here](https://joshllyman.carrd.co)


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